The Worst Memory Of All
by ragnhild-potter
Summary: I can't belive you called me that.


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_"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Lily shouted. She had her own wand out now. James and Sirius eyed it warily._

_"Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you," said James earnestly._

_"Take the curse off him, then!"_

_James sighed deeply, then turned to Snape and muttered the counter-curse._

_"There you go," he said, as Snape struggled to his feet. "You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus –"_

_"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"_

_Lily blinked._

_"Fine," she said coolly. "I won't bother in future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, **Snivellus**."_

_(from "Harry Potter and The Order of the __Phoenix__" by J. K. Rowling)_

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Two figures stood closely entwined, hidden away in a shadowy fold of the lower levels of the castle. In the gloomy half-light, it was hard to distinguish one from the other. There was nobody else anywhere close by. Yet if you could have observed them closely, you might note the curious tension of the boy's grip on the girl's arms; the look of mixed anguish and relief apparent on both their faces as she pressed herself against him, her head tucked under his chin, her arms tightly around his torso.

Finally, reluctantly, they relaxed their hold on each other. She stepped back slightly, not wanting to give up the contact so soon. They looked into one another's eyes, and both saw mingled pain and comfort there; hopelessness and hope united; trust and the bitter knowledge of betrayal repeated again and again.

"I can't believe you called me... _that," he said finally. He attempted his usual, disdainful drawl, but she could hear the hurt lacing his words. _

Strangely ambivalent emotions surged through her. She was angry with him; he had hurt her, _again - and yet she wanted nothing more than to feel his arms around her again, to feel the safety of his protection... If she could only ignore her own pain, she could comfort him – and if she could let go of the more tender feelings she had for him, she would be able to let out some of her hurt and anger... _I can't believe you called me... that_. The pain in her chest gave a sudden lurch. She gave a hollow laugh._

"I might say the same thing," she said, voice not entirely steady.

He seemed alarmed.

"It was an act," he offered. A statement, and calmly spoken – but she thought she could detect the faint stirrings of anxiety behind his words. His eyes were bright as he searched her face.

"Yes," she said, with a definite note of sadness to her voice, "it _was_ an act. But _is_ it?"

"What do you mean?" he replied quickly. Anxiety had given way to tightly reined-in panic. Did she mean...?

"Severus – I mean that I think we mean everything we say to each other," she said, and, seeing that he was about to protest, she put a finger to his lips. "Hush," she said, "and let me finish." He quieted at her touch.

"I think we mean _everything we say – out there, and... and in here. And that's not __right, Severus, you know it isn't. Can you honestly say that you don't mean any of those things? Is it really all an act – the insults, the sneers, everything? Don't lie to me – I won't lie to you – we _do_ mean all those hurtful things. We may regret them later, deny their importance, to each other and even to ourselves – but in the moment, _we mean them_." She paused._

"Maybe..." he sounded hoarse. "Maybe we _do mean them – but __this is no act, either!" His eyes dared her to deny it. She simply shook her head._

"No," she agreed, "it's no act. But it's still not _right_. Why do we do this?" she asked abruptly. "Come down here like this, I mean. Why do we meet here, secretly? Why don't we tell anyone about this, about us?"

He stared at her. "Why...?"

"I'm serious!" she insisted. "Why _us_ at all? We _mean_ those insults; we both harbour resentment and anger and disgust for each other; we hurt each other – so why do I come to _you_ for comfort? Why do you come to _me_?"

He seemed to have lost the ability to speak. His eyes reflected his fear as she looked at him with shining, wet eyes. She sighed and ran a hand across her face. Her voice lost its passionate quality and she continued in a resigned tone, as if she were too tired for emotion.

"I don't know, Severus; I'm no shrink," – and, seeing his puzzled expression, she smiled at last; a slight tug of the lips. A trace of wry humour lingered in her voice as she continued, "a Muggle term, never mind – but even if I'm _not a Mind Healer, I know enough to see that this – us – this isn't _healthy_! We're becoming _dependent_ on each other; we hurt each other and then look for comfort in each other's arms. Maybe we only feel... that way... about each other because we're in the same sort of situation, because we both need somebody else, I don't know – maybe we're even only imagining those feelings –"_

"Stop," he pleaded, "stop it!"

"I'm sorry, I am, really – but this can't go on. This... love-hate thing. I can't handle it, Severus! And today... I should have realised this long ago – but I only understood today that you really _meant it when you said..." She buried her face in her hands. He reached out awkwardly to stroke her beautiful red hair. She shied away from his touch._

"It wasn't real, Severus," she whispered. "You're not the one I want – and I'm not the one you want. And _this," she swept out an arm, "– this isn't what either of us wants. Or needs."_

Pain flared in his chest, and he grasped at his anger to support him now that he knew her arms no longer would.

"What _do_ you want, then? Who _do_ you need? _Potter?" he spat._

The colour drained from her face. Her green eyes widened impossibly and she stared at him as if he had slapped her. He sneered at her, all the while his heart breaking into a thousand pieces as the rock he had clambered to crumbled beneath his fingers _– but it had never really been there to clamber to, had it? –_ and he knew he was lost, hopelessly lost and this time there would be no-one to save him.

Her mouth opened and closed as she stood there, shocked at his sudden, cruel words. Then she spun and ran down the corridor.

"Too close to the truth, was I? – 'Lily _Potter_'!" 

He tried to laugh, to mock, to taunt, but his voice sounded hollow and broken to his ears as her face swam before his vision, tears streaming down her face – down his face, now…

"– Lily…" he whispered into the still, cool air of the dungeons.

There was no reply.

She was gone.


End file.
